


Recovery (Part 2)

by Dystopian_Dramaqueen



Series: Recovery [2]
Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complicity, F/M, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Torture, PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dystopian_Dramaqueen/pseuds/Dystopian_Dramaqueen
Summary: Nick returns from Gilead a year after rescuing Hannah and others.He is a damaged shell of the man June loves. She finds out why. And helps him recover.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been a year since Nick went back into Gilead.

 

He rescued Hannah- but hasn’t been heard from since.

 

I try not to think about it. If a year can pass…could two? Three? Is he ever coming back?  

 

It’s November. I’m at my desk. I hear commotion from the break room. Everyone’s gathered around the television. Live news footage from the Mexican border. They have a new refugee from Gilead. Someone made it out.

 

A few days later- three arrive at the Canadian border. Four more the following day. The slow trickle of refugees continues. Mayday must be active again. I allow myself to feel a flicker of hope.

 

We receive some of the refugees at our center. They tell us that Mayday never stopped. Their previous attempt- Operation Salvage- failed because it was too big. Too many people fled at once. They decided to go small this time. They spent the past year shoring up escape routes, securing safe houses and vehicles. This time each member of Mayday was only responsible for evacuating themselves and any innocents in their household.

 

We’re busy at the center. My work is with former handmaids. I connect them with therapists.  Support groups. Get them clothes and apartments. Try to find their families from before.

 

I continue documenting Gilead’s crimes against women. Most remain anonymous, but I arrange TV interviews for the vocal ones. It's good to get their stories out there. To see their trauma in the public record. It's healing. For me and for them.

 

This fresh media coverage re-ignites the firestorm of public outrage. **#stopgilead** and **#freethehandmaids** trend on Twitter. There are worldwide protests. Crowds of women in red cloaks and white wings shut down traffic in Paris, London, Berlin. The handmaid uniforms on TV don’t trigger me. They thrill me. Seeing the crimson repurposed as a symbol of resistance feels fucking good.

 

International governments pressure Gilead to answer for their alleged human rights violations. The United Nations captures drone footage of the colonies, the particulation and stoning events, as well as bodies hanging from trees in suburban neighborhoods. The international community’s shock and horror amplify with each new atrocity that comes to light.

 

We, the survivors- simply watch, thankful that the world finally believes us. I wish I could say an armed international force stormed in and shut down Gilead. That commandos went in guns blazing- but life isn’t a movie. This is more like watching a rusty machine grind to a halt. At least there’s finally progress.

 

Mayday is active. There is hope.

 


	2. Chapter 2

I’m in my apartment one night, folding laundry. I hear loud banging on my door. I open it to find a breathless Moira. “You’ve gotta see this.”

 

We huddle in front of the TV, keeping it low- so we don’t wake Holly and Hannah. There was something on the news she wants me to see. She pours us some wine.

 

“What was it?”

 

“Sssshhh. You’ll see.”  

 

At the top of the hour the cycle starts over. Breaking news. Large group of Guardians arrives in Canada. Former members of Mayday. We watch them going into the police station. Moira sits forward. Points to the back of the line. Male. Medium height. Dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin. She looks at me. Gauging my reaction.

 

“That’s him, right? Nick?”

 

I nod. “I think so.”

 

It’s definitely him. But he looks... different. Thin. Pale. Eyes on the ground. Dead inside. Like a ghost. We look at each other, then back at the screen. They cut to coverage of local news.

 

Moira turns the TV off. Gets the bottle of wine. Refills her glass and mine. She nods to herself. Considering her words before they come out. “He looks like shit.” I nod. Moira the poet. She puts her arm around me. “It’s gonna be ok. He’s alive. That’s what matters.” I nod again.

 

Thank God. He's alive. 

 

\------------------

 

Nick and the other guardians are locked away in private meetings for almost a week.

 

The first 2 days are with high level Canadian officials and police. INTERPOL, FBI, military and politicians attend.

 

They move to the American Embassy for an additional 2 days. The debriefing is kept private, even though the final record will be public. It’s agony knowing he’s so close. We learn that they’ve been granted immunity from prosecution. It’s good news, but I get really worried...prosecution for what?

 

There are rumors. That the escape protocol included executions. The Wives and Commanders were killed in their sleep. Leaving no one no to report the escapes in the morning. The households of Gilead simply fell silent one by one. I hope it's true. The commanders built the prisons. The wives maintained them. Eye for an eye, motherfuckers. 

 

———————

 

I camp out the final night of meetings at the Embassy. On a bench across from the conference room. I want to be the first face Nick sees when he comes out. I finally allow myself to be excited. I’ve imagined this moment so many times.

 

The conference room doors finally open around 10 pm. I’d fallen asleep. I stand, rubbing my eyes. I search the faces for Nick. He finally emerges. Eyes glossed over. He pauses- like he senses me. Turns and looks in my direction. His expression is so sad.

 

I run up and embrace him. He pulls away gently. Unable to meet my eyes. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t... I’m so sorry June...for everything.” He turns and walks for the exit.

 

I’m dumbfounded. Frozen in place. What the fuck is happening? I’ve had a year to envision our reunion. I’d imagined running into his arms. Embarrassing him with my affection. I’d pictured myself crying inconsolably at his funeral. But...of all the possible endings, I’d never imagined this one. I don’t know what to do.

 

I have to jog to catch up to him. “Nick, wait up. NICK!”

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

He keeps his pace down the stairwell. Out into the cold night air. I call behind him. “You want a ride home?”

 

“Gonna walk.”

 

I grow increasingly worried.

 

“Where you going?”

 

“Don’t know.”

 

“Nick. Are you ok?”

 

“No.”

 

I run, grab the lapels of his jacket, step directly in front of him. Forcing him to stop.

 

“Nick, talk to me.  Are you in trouble? Are you going to jail or something? What’s wrong?”

 

He finally looks at me- but there’s nothing in his eyes. Just darkness. Like the day he broke up with me in Waterford’s kitchen.

 

“You at least owe me an explanation! What the fuck happened?”

 

He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

 

His words land like a punch to my chest. I’m speechless.

 

I try to reach him a different way. I wrap my arms around him. He stands stiff, motionless. He pulls away and walks off, lighting a cigarette.

 

I watch him go. Tears streaming unchecked down my face. I don’t understand. I promise myself that I’ll find out what happened to him. I’ll try to fix it. This can’t be what happens to us. After all we’ve been through. This can’t be how our story ends.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

 

I spend the night thinking. What could have happened? Did they hurt him? I’ll find out soon enough, once they release the deposition video.

 

Then it clicks. I’ve seen him like this once before. The night Eden died. Lost in his thoughts, re-hashing everything he should have done differently. That was the only time he refused to connect with me. Because he didn’t want comfort. He felt like he deserved to suffer.

 

The next night I wait for him at the Embassy again. The meetings end earlier- around 9pm. I follow him to the exit. Walking faster this time. “Hey.”

 

He glances up at me. “Where you going?”

 

“Wherever you’re going.”

 

He shrugs. “Fine.”

 

We walk in silence. About a mile out of town. To a shitty dive bar. He glances over at me again. Voice irritated. “June this is a bad neighborhood. Get a cab and go home.”

 

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

“Exactly. What the fuck is wrong with me. Now you get it.”

 

“I don’t understand. Fill me in.”

 

“I want to be alone.”

 

I stand between him and the door of the bar. He makes a cursory attempt to push past me, but I stand my ground.

 

His voice is a whisper. “Please. Just let me go. You don’t want this.”

 

I’m inches shorter than him but I get in his face. “Don’t you fucking tell me what I want. I know you’re in there Nick. I’m not leaving you in that darkness. I’m gonna help you. Don’t fucking give up. You hear me? I’m not leaving until you fucking talk to me.”

 

“Whatever. I just need the thoughts to stop.” He pushes past me. I follow and sit next to him at the bar. The glow from the neon sign casts a blue halo over his black hair. He knocks back two shots and sips on a beer. Repeats this a few minutes later. Jesus. He’s not a drinker. At least he wasn’t a year ago. He sits with his head in his hands. I let the silence stand.

 

After half an hour, he finally looks over at me. Like he’s seeing me for the first time tonight. His voice is softer, but still so sad. “I missed you June.” I feel tears welling up. “I missed you too.” I put my hand on his shoulder, he shrugs it off. I take a deep breath and wait. I remind myself that tonight isn’t about me.

 

“I’m sorry it’s so fucked up. That it’ll never work now.” He puts his head back in his hands.

 

“What’ll never work?”

 

“You and me. Once you find out.” I wait. Giving him time to get his thoughts out. “I slipped back into the Gilead military like no time had passed.”

 

“Yeah. And helped hundreds of civilians escape. Including Hannah. They’d be dead if it weren't for you.”

 

“Don’t you see? I was one of them. I’ve hurt so many people….done so much harm… I just….don’t want to hurt anyone else. I can't hurt you any more than I already have.”

 

I shake my head. “Nick. Look at me. You’ve never hurt me.”

 

He looks at me, stunned. The first eye contact of the night. “My job… was to help Waterford rape women. You. The ones before you.” His voice is a pained whisper. Like he can barely stand the thing he is about to say. “I should have said no when Serena...asked me to…”   

 

I take his hands. Shaking my head. “Nick…I wanted you. I loved you. You know that.”

 

He shakes his head slowly. Like he can’t believe how blind I am. Like he’s so sad for me. “The first time wasn’t love, June.” He lets it hang. Begging me to see his guilt. I keep shaking my head. He sighs. “You had no choice. We were fully clothed. There was a guard. I didn’t ...even know your name. That was rape.”

 

It lands on me. It’s heavy. Some part of me knows he’s right. I sit completely still. I don’t know what to say.

 

“...and Eden...”

 

“Nick, Eden wanted you to sleep with her. She wanted you so badly.”

 

His expression changes to anger. “Eden... **wanted** to hold hands. She **wanted** her first kiss. She **wanted** Issac to be her first boyfriend. We killed them for trying to be together. I stood by and let that happen too.”

 

I try to take some of the burden off him. To share some of the responsibility. “Nick- I’ve never told you this, but I told Eden to run away with Issac. The night before they left. And I begged you to sleep with her. I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong. We should have figured out another way.”

 

“Did you do it?” His eyes search mine. “No. You didn’t. I did. I’ll never forgive myself for that." I feel tears coming. "I was one of them, June. I’m a rapist and a murderer. I somehow convinced you differently. But hey, I’m a good liar too.” His eyes are dead. Dark. Like the night Eden died.  

 

“Ok. I hear you. It’s fucked up. Bad things happened. We’re not gonna fix it all tonight. You look tired. Let me take you home. K?”  He sighs and nods. I call us an uber. We ride back to the apartment in silence. He stares out the window.

 

I get him up to the apartment. Moira stands up from the couch. “Hey, Nick- welcome home!” He nods acknowledgement. She lets herself out- mouthing “See you tomorrow”. I nod.

 

Nick walks to Holly’s room. Opens the door quietly. Sits on her bed, tucks her hair behind her ear. Tears shimmering in his eyes.

 

He settles on the couch, slips his shoes off. By the time I get back with a blanket, he’s out. I tuck him in. I change into my PJ’s and slip into our bed alone. I think back- to the last night we were here together. He tried to convince me that going back into Gilead was a bad idea. That we’d lose each other somehow. I should have listened. But then Hannah… would be gone forever. Decisions like that are impossible.

 

I hear him whimpering from the living room. He sits up panting. Settles back down a few minutes later. This pattern repeats every half hour. This is what it was like for me the first year too. Nightmares. I remember the first few weeks  mine were terrifying.

 

I walk out to the living room- sit on the couch next to him. He starts breathing hard again, brow furrowed, sweat beading on his forehead. I hold his hand and whisper words of comfort. It seems to help a little.

 

Around midnight Nick sits bolt upright, eyes wide, chest heaving. I take his hand. “It’s ok. I’m here. It was just a dream.” He shakes his head. Like he’s still seeing whatever it was that woke him. He starts crying silently. I wrap my arms around him and rock him. I stroke his dark curls. “Shhhh. It’s ok. I’ve got you. You’re ok. You’re safe.” He trembles like a lost, terrified child- but doesn’t pull away. He lets me comfort him for the first time since he’s been back. I hold him until the shaking stops and his breathing slows. I pull a blanket around us and lay down next to him. Head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

 

\-------------------------------

 

“Mama! MAMA!! Me hungry!!!”

 

I open my eyes to see Holly’s adorable face in front of mine. I must have fallen asleep on the couch. There’s a blanket over me. Pillow under my head. Sunlight streaming through the window. Must be after 8. I look around for Nick. No sign of him- but there’s a note on the coffee table. “Sorry about last night. More meetings this morning. See you after. Thanks for getting me home. Kiss Holly for me.”

 

I drop Holly and Hannah with Moira after breakfast. She looks at me knowingly.  “He ok?”

 

I shake my head. “No. He’s really messed up. I’m gonna go try to figure out why.” She nods.

 

I head to the refugee center. It’s Saturday. No one here. All the debriefings are public record. I check to see if his debriefing has been uploaded yet. It has. I don’t know if I really want to know. Fuck it. He got me out of my hell. I’m gonna get him out of his. I open the file, and click on the first video.

 


	4. Chapter 4

_The video starts._

 

Nick.

 

Sitting on a plastic chair. In a line between other guardians. The man to his left is finishing his testimony. The camera moves to Nick. Pans in close, focusing the frame on him.

 

He’s wearing a grey sweatshirt and jeans. Staring blankly at the floor. Small wrinkle between his eyebrows. Leg bouncing nervously. He looks pale. Sweaty. I reach out and touch the screen. My heart aches. I hate that he was alone for this. This conversation should have been private. Months from now. When he was ready.

 

“Mr. Blaine. The purpose of today’s debriefing is to create a timeline of last year’s events. Before we start, the council wants to acknowledge your role in rescuing hundreds of people from Gilead over the past year.

 

_Silence. No acknowledgement._

 

“Mr. Blaine?” (louder).

 

Nick’s eyes flick up to the speaker, then return to the floor.

 

“Please remember this is not a legal proceeding. Today’s interview is a narrative for historical purposes, nothing more. Your team saved several hundred innocent civilians. We want to know how. We ask you for the facts, no matter how ugly or uncomfortable. Our last contact with you was at the Canadian border one year ago. Please proceed from there.”

 

Nick nods. “I knew where they were taking the kids. I’d been there before. With the border force. Abandoned school. Seemed likely it would still have power and running water.”

 

“Can you describe the Gilead Border Force for us please?”

 

“Disorganized. Small camps. Watching for runners. Hunting rebels. Guys aren’t there for long. Usually a month at most.”

 

“Let’s move forward. Can you walk us through the events leading up to the rescue?”

 

“Met up with my team. We’d all worked for Mayday while maintaining our positions in Gilead. We only had one guardian uniform. Too small for the other guys, so I put it on. I checked in at the school. There were only 5 guardians inside.  

 

Took one member of my team in with me. Told them he was a runner I’d caught. The rest of my team stayed outside waiting. We decided on a signal. They’d wait til they heard it- then come in and take out anyone in black who wasn’t me.”

 

“How were you able to assimilate back into the Gilead Military? Didn’t they recognize that you hadn’t been there before?”

 

“No. Because neither had they. They were all from different camps. Protocol was: Once you caught a runner, one member of the team would bring them to a central location to await transportation. Gilead sends busses once a week. It’s always the same.

 

The mass escapes took them off guard, they hadn’t had time to organize beyond the normal protocol. There’s no real leadership in the force. The uniform I had was high rank. That made it easy for me to move around unquestioned.

 

They had the kids locked in a classroom. Twenty. Most elementary age and a few teenagers. I knew one of the children, a friend’s daughter. She recognized me. That helped earn their trust. I took the older ones outside and told them which way to run when they heard the signal. Told them to pick up the little ones if they had to. Not to leave anyone behind. To stay together and go North.

 

Our whole goal was to create a distraction. Get the kids out, give them a head start, then make sure they weren’t followed.”

 

“How?”

 

Nick looks up. Considers his words. “There’s only one way to be sure.”

 

“I’m going to summarize what we understand from the children’s debriefing. You spoke with the children. Left their room unlocked. Pulled a fire alarm as their signal to run. They made it safely to Canada.”

 

Nick nods. “Yeah. Sounds right.”

 

“Please fill in the missing details.”

 

“We killed all five guards. Busses were coming in the morning to ship the runners back. Our site hadn’t reported in yet. I got the password for check in. Names of the local leaders I could expect at camp and back at base. Details I’d need to go deeper. Found out where they were taking the kids. We knew that’s where the adults would be.”

 

“Found out how? When did you get this information?”

 

“I’m not talking about that here.”

 

“Mr. Blaine we need a complete record. As much detail as you can remember.”

 

“We hurt one of them.”

 

“How?”

 

Nick shakes his head. “The details aren’t relevant.” He sits for probably a minute. The interview remains paused. He seems to realize it won’t proceed until he says something more. His eyes glaze over. He looks off screen at the guardian to his right. Nods.

 

“Fingernails.”

 

“Can you clarify…”

 

“We ripped. His fingernails. Off.”

 

A hush settles over the room.

 

“Thank you…”

 

Nick continues over him. “We all watch it in training. Beating him up didn’t do anything. So we got pliers. Two of us held his arms, the third asked questions.” He looks up at the chairman. Checking to see if this was sufficient detail. “Only took three and he told us everything. We shot him after. So he wouldn’t follow the kids.”

 

Silence from the chairman. Nick nods and looks back at the floor.

 

“Did he tell you their plan once they got back? Did they plan to send the runaways back to their households? Set up trials? Send them to a work camp?”

 

Nick shakes his head, looks at the speaker.

 

“What was going to happen to the run-aways? When they got back to Gilead?”

 

“Runners are interrogated and executed. Rebels don’t get a second chance.”

 

The chairman clears his throat and does not press this question any further.

 

“We all agreed we couldn’t stop there, we had to try to help more people get out. We still had a chance to help. We had time. We radioed in a count of zero from our site. Took their guns, radios and car, their ID badges. Their uniforms were full of bullet holes. Unuseable. But we found a few spare uniforms in their bags.

 

Drove to the central location. Signed in. Place was a zoo. We told them we hadn’t found any runaways in our patrol zone. Offered to help secure their prisoners. Same general plan we used at the school. We unlocked doors, this time we handed out weapons, told them to run when they heard the signal. Head North. There were probably fifty guardians. We took turns separating guards from the group- one at a time. Slitting their throats in the woods. Took out probably fifteen that way.

 

Then we went deeper. Reconnected with old Mayday contacts. Helped get more people out. It took time. And here we are.”

 

The speaker thanks him and begins questioning the next guardian. Nick nods. Starts chewing a fingernail. Leg bouncing nervously.


	5. Chapter 5

The video stops.

 

Jesus.

 

I feel mild revulsion. I try to ignore it.

 

I text Nick. Ask him to meet me for coffee.

 

When I get to the coffee shop he’s already there.

 

At the corner table we always used to sit at. We used to spend hours here. I see our ghosts superimposed on the present. I see him wrapping his arm around my shoulders and kissing my head. We’d snuggle and read books from the store next door. He’d always get dark roast. Drink it black. I’d get a latte with a lot of sugar.

 

As I get closer to him my stomach turns. Something’s not right. The flush in his cheeks. The sweat on his forehead. There’s no way the walk here winded him. It’s November and it’s freezing.

 

I sit down next to him. 

 

“Hey. You feeling ok?”

 

He looks at me. “Yeah. Why?”

 

“You just look… pale. Do you have a fever?”

 

I reach over to feel his forehead. He’s cold. Clammy. I don’t know what to make of it. I clear my throat. May as well get down to it.

 

“I saw your video.”

 

He finds my eyes and nods.  

 

“It…sounds like you had to do some...difficult things.”

 

He holds my gaze. Like it’s the understatement of the decade.

 

“Was there worse stuff than that?”

 

He shakes his head, exhales. Puts a cigarette between his lips. Thinks better of it and keeps it between his thumb and index finger. Tapping it nervously against the table.

 

“Wait... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s okay.”

 

He pauses. Considering his words. Shakes his head again, eyes down. Voice a whisper. “No, June. It’s not. It’s not okay.” He gathers his stuff to leave. “Please stop acting like nothing happened.”

 

He pushes back from the table. The bells on the coffee shop door chime as he steps out into the November wind. He’s lit up and walked off before I can think of a response.

 

I didn’t even have a chance to get a fucking coffee and he barely touched his. What the fuck is happening to us. I pull his cup over to me. I pour in two creamers and three packets of sugar. No sense wasting it. I take a sip and almost spit it out. It tastes terrible. Like gasoline. A thought crosses my mind and my stomach sinks. It all flashes through my mind at once. Sweating. Clammy. Nervous. Irritable.

 

I take a deep breath. Take another sip.

 

Whiskey.

 

Shit.


	6. Chapter 6

Tuesday night. Haven’t heard from Nick since the coffee shop. Three days. I’m getting the girls ready for bed when Hannah taps my shoulder.

 

“Where’s Mr. Blaine? Moira said he’s back. Why hasn’t he come over?”

 

I sit on the bathroom floor. Pull her to my lap like I used to when she was smaller.

 

“Nick doesn’t feel good. He needs to rest so he can get better.”

 

“Should we take him something to eat? Chicken noodle soup always makes me feel better.”

 

“That’s a good idea. It’s hard to explain. His body isn’t sick. It’s not like a cold. Sometimes grownups… just need time and space to feel better.”

 

“I just want to thank him. I’d be a wife right now if he hadn’t come back for me.”

 

_My stomach drops._

_Tunnel vision. Nausea. Dizziness._

_I focus on Holly playing in the bath._

_Water. Soap bubbles on top._

_Rubber duckies. Yellow._

_Rug under my knees. Soft. Shaggy. Blue._

_In breath. Out breath. In breath. Out breath._

_You’re in Canada._

_You’re in Canada._

_In your apartment._

_You are safe._

_Your girls are safe._

_It’s ok._

_Breathe._

_Breathe._

_Just breathe._

 

I move my eyes. Hannah’s staring at me- quietly- worried.

 

“You ok mom?”

 

“Yeah. I’m ok.”

 

“Were you remembering Gilead?”

 

“Yes. But I feel better now.”

 

“Is Mr. Blaine remembering Gilead? Is that why he doesn’t feel good?”

 

“I think so. But don’t worry. He’ll be ok.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

I kiss her head. “You’ll get to thank him sweetie. I promise.”

 

She heads to her room to get pajamas on. White. Because I have a thing about colors now. No red. No pink. No green. No grey. No black. Not a lot of options left. So their pajamas are white. The color of the econowife wedding. How did I not see that before. I guess white is out too.

 

I finish Holly’s bath and tuck the girls in. We read Cat in the Hat.

 

I lay down next to Holly. She looks at me. “Where dada, mom mom?” I try to keep my voice steady as tears spill down my cheeks.

 

“Daddy’s ok baby. He’ll be home soon. I promise.”

 

She touches the tears on my cheek. “You sad mom mom?”

 

I nod. She kisses my cheek.

 

“Muah. Now you all better.” Holly rolls over, cuddles the stuffed elephant Nick gave her and closes her tiny eyes.

 

Once they’re asleep I go to the bathroom. Lock the door and slide down with my back against it.

 

My therapist told me not to suppress my feelings anymore. There’s enough fear and pain down there to last me the rest of my life. She says I should acknowledge feelings as they come up, feel them and let them pass.

 

I close my eyes and focus on the feeling of pressure in my chest. My soul speaks in pictures.

 

_The Prayvaganza._

_I’m seated. Looking at my lap, hands folded._

_Head down like a good humble girl._

_I am dressed in_ **_RED_ ** _._

 _The color of_ **_Blood_ ** _._

 _The color of_ **_Murder. Shame. Sex. Sin._ **

_I see Eden. In a_ **_WHITE_ ** _gown. Faceless._

 **_Pure_ ** _._ **_Untouched_ ** _. Like_ **_Fresh Snow_ ** _._

_Marched out. Given to a stranger as property._

**_Devils_ ** _dressed in_ **_BLACK_ ** _._

 _The color of_ **_Evil. Death. Decay_ ** _._

_I think of the guardians on that stage._

_Licking their hungry mouths._

_What happened when they got those girls home._

**_Penetrated. Damaged. Bleeding. RED._ **

_My mind shows me Hannah._

_In_ **_WHITE_ ** _._

_Pure. Untouched. Faceless._

_Walking to the stage._

 

I lunge to the toilet and wretch. I puke 'til there’s nothing left. Then I cry 'til there’s nothing left.

 

I got it all out.

 

My mind gets quiet.

 

 

  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June's children inspired her to reach out to Nick again.  
> He's in worse shape than she expected.

It hits me. I know how to find Nick. We have a joint bank account.

 

I check on the girls. Still asleep.

 

I open my laptop and check our account. I see a charge for a motel a few miles away.

 

It’s 2am. I text Moira. She agrees to come over while I’m out. I pull on jeans, boots, coat and scarf.

 

Hannah’s words flash through my mind. I swing by the 24 hour grocery store and get some soup and bread.

 

I get to the hotel. Speak with the manager and get Nick’s room number. 5 B. Knock on the door. I hear a chair push back, a pause- then Nick opens the door. I realize now that he’s always had some expression on his face. Because what I see now is blank. No recognition. No amusement. No kindness. Nothing at all.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey. It’s freezing. Can I come in?”

 

He steps back, making space for me to pass.

 

The smell hits me as I step inside. Reminds me of a frat house. Unwashed man and booze. Air thick with smoke. The room is lit by one small lamp in the corner.  Bed unmade. Blinds drawn shut. One small table with a full ashtray and a glass full of amber liquid. Empty liquor bottles piled in the trash can.

 

I unpack the groceries and sit. Nick sits across from me. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

 

“Brought you something to eat.”

 

“Not hungry.”

 

“It’ll keep. Did I wake you?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“Look, Nick. I don’t know what to say. I just know you’re in pain. If you can’t talk to me about whatever happened, there are support groups. I run one for Handmaids. It really helps.”

 

His eyes gloss over, he looks down, taps his fingers on the table.

 

“Look. Maybe you don’t care if you get better. But I do. It hurts to see you like this.”

 

He nods. Like he’s making a note. Adding it to the list of innumerable ways he’s caused me pain. “I never meant to hurt you.”

 

“Hannah was asking about you today. The soup was her idea.”

 

He looks sadder with every word I say.

 

“Holly asks about you.”

 

His eyes move to mine. He narrows his eyes before closing them and rubbing his forehead.

 

“Yeah?”

 

 **There it is.** I’ve found my in.

 

“Yeah. She misses you.”

 

“What did she say?”

 

“Where’s dada, mama?”

 

Someone less experienced in his body language wouldn’t notice him blinking back tears. He drains his glass, stands quickly to refill it. He’s imbalanced- has to grab the table to steady himself.

 

I put my hand on his. The contact stops him cold. He doesn’t pull away. After a few beats he brushes his thumb against mine. Staring at that tiny connection between us. His body remembers me. My touch still means something. He’s listening.

 

“What should I tell her?”

 

He looks at me.

 

“Daddy loved you...but he can’t be here...because he drank himself to death? Is that how your story ends?”

 

I see a rim of tears in his eyes. He shakes his head.

 

“Nick I know you feel terrible. Because you’ve hurt people. But you are hurting people right now. And Holly doesn’t need an apology or an explanation. She just needs you. Even if you’re fucked up. We’d rather have you around. We want to help.”

 

He nods. “Tell her... I’m sorry. I miss her too. I’ll try harder. I just can’t stop seeing…” his hand tightens into a fist under mine.

 

“It’s fucking PTSD Nick. We all have it. It’s treatable. I wave at his glass. “This is making it worse. This path leads to death. You know how painful it is to lose someone to guilt and grief. Please don’t do that to Holly. She deserves better. She loves you to pieces. Just… please don’t give up, ok?” He holds my gaze and nods. I squeeze his hand, head to the door. Turning around before I step out.

 

He whispers “Ok.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June uses Nick's soft spot to get him back home.

The next night bath time is a battle.

 

I make the mistake of putting the bubble soap in the bath. Instead of letting Holly do it herself.

 

It’s an epic tantrum. Bigger than the one this morning when I (prepare yourself) cut her muffin in half. How dare I! It was ruined! Inedible!

 

She’s three. Fiercely independent. I want to nurture that, but I also need to keep her bathed and fed.

 

She starts crying for her daddy. Feels like I’m watching my inner voice. This is what I feel like on the inside. I want him back too sweetie. I don’t understand either. She finally passes out. I hear my phone vibrate. I’ve missed a text from Nick.

 

 **N** : How’s Holly?

 **J** : Had trouble getting her down.

 **J** : She was asking where you were again.

 **N** : She asleep?

 **J** : Yea.

 

I sneak into Holly’s room. Slide her arm around the elephant he gave her and snap a picture. Tears still wet around her eyes. I hit send. After a minute my phone vibrates again.

 

 **N** : She ok?

 **J** : What do you mean?

 **N** : Is she sick?

 **J** : No

 **N** : Allergies?

 **J** : No

 **N** : What’s wrong then?

 **J** : Broken heart.

 **J** : She misses her daddy.

 **J** : Cried herself to sleep again. Asking for you. Asking me where you are.

 

There’s a long pause. I know he’s holding his phone. The other texts were rapid fire.

 

 **N** : Can I come over?

 **J** : Of course

 

Twenty minutes later there’s a knock on the door. I open it.

 

His cheeks are flushed from the cold. “Hey.” “Hey.” “She ok?” I nod. “She’s sleeping.” He nods.

 

He takes his wallet, keys, phone out of his pockets and puts them on the table. Drapes his jacket on the couch and slips his boots off. Walks to Holly’s bedroom and pushes the door open slowly.

 

Sits down on the bed next to her. Brushes the hair away from her face. The tears have dried, but he gently wipes her cheek with his thumb where they’d been in the picture.

 

He lays down beside her. Without opening her eyes, Holly drops the toy elephant, rolls over sleepily and snuggles Nick. He pulls her close. Kisses her tiny forehead.

 

I step out, leaving them to their moment.

 

I peek in a while later. They’re asleep.  Arms around each other. They match. Curly black hair. Pale skin. Single wrinkle between their dark eyebrows. Her dressed in white. Him in black. Yin and Yang. I take a picture of them on my phone. Text it to his phone. That one’s going in the scrapbook.

 

I pull her blanket up over them and sit down against the dresser. Watching their chests rise and fall. Hannah sleeps peacefully in the opposite corner. It feels safe. I don’t remember the last time I felt this safe.

 

My whole heart is in this room.

  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick's home.  
> It's too good to last.  
> He's still haunted.

I wake up on the floor. Blanket over me, pillow under my head. Sunlight streams through the window. It has to be past 9am. Shit. I never sleep this late. I sit up. The girl’s beds are made and they’re nowhere in sight. I smell coffee going. I hear Hannah and Holly talking excitedly in the kitchen. I peek around the corner to see Nick cooking while Holly and Hannah work their way through a huge stack of pancakes.

 

It feels like a dream. Beautiful and fragile. It’s too good to be true. I linger there without speaking. Hannah peppers him with questions.

 

“Mr. Blaine.”

 

“Call me Nick.”

 

“Mr. Nick, these pancakes are really good. The eggs are good too. You’re a good cook.”

 

“Thanks Hannah.”

 

“Are you gonna stay with us from now on?”

 

“How many more pancakes do you want?”

 

“I’m almost full. Where were you after you got back?”

 

“Not too far away. I had lots of meetings.”

 

“Spy meetings?”

 

He smirks. “Something like that.”

 

“Did the soup help you feel better?”

 

“Yea. It did. Thanks for that.”

 

The interrogation is broken by a shriek of delight when Holly spots me.

 

“Dada home!!!” She triumphantly announces Nick, like her tantrum summoned him.

 

In a way it did.

 

“I see that!”

 

“Me happy.” She folds her arms. “Dada. You no go.”

 

I chime in: “I hope he stays too. I love having him here. It feels like home again.”

 

Holly claps. “Yayyy! Dada stay! Dada stay!”

 

Nick smiles to himself. A real smile. First one since he’s been back. It’s beautiful.

 

He flips the stove off. Washes the dishes quickly and dries his hands. He glances at me nervously. “I made extra if you’re hungry.”

 

I walk behind him and wrap my arms around him. “You stayed.” “Yeah, I couldn’t wake you. You looked too peaceful.” He squeezes my arm. Palms are clammy. Clears his throat and pulls away. “I’ve gotta get going.” He’s already halfway to the door.

 

“Wait, why?”

 

He slips his jacket on, sits down on the couch to tie his boots. “I’ve got meetings in a couple hours. “At the center?” “Yeah.” He swallows and looks at me. “It was good to see you, June. I’ll see you in a couple days?”

 

I’m shaking my head. I can’t think of anything to say. He kisses my cheek and heads out the door.

 

I look out the window. He heads right instead of left to the Center. He stops to light a cigarette. And pulls a flask out of his jacket, taking a swig before quickly tucking it away again.

  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June enlists help.  
> Nick starts to open up.

I call my therapist’s office. She’s always said we should feel free to contact her if we have emergencies. I call her and leave a long rambling message summarizing what’s going on. Using emotional words, feelings. She calls back a few hours later. She remembers Nick from our conversations last year. She repeats the story back to me- in medical terms- and it sounds like a diagnosis that can be treated.

 

Your boyfriend just got back from Gilead. He likely has PTSD and picked up a drinking habit to self medicate. The alcohol use is daily and heavy. He’s shaky and sweaty when he wakes up- and has to start drinking right away to calm his nerves. He’s not eating. Barely sleeping. Alcoholism runs in his family.

 

A lot of the handmaid refugees start off so fucked up they literally can’t leave their apartments. She’s used to making housecalls- helping people with their anxiety until they’re able to see her in the office. She offers to do the same for Nick. She asks if he wants to see her. I lie and say yes. That man will never ask for help but he needs it.

 

I walk her to his hotel. I introduce them. He looks at me - confusion mixed with irritation. Before he speaks I interrupt. “Nick. She helped me. She helped me and a lot of other people. Please talk to her. Please. For me. For Holly. You promised you’d try.” He sighs, shaking his head. “Fine.”

 

I wait downstairs in the lobby. She comes out an hour later. I jump up and follow her out. “Hey, how’d it go?” “June you know I can’t share anything we talked about.” “I know that. But is he ok? Is he gonna be ok?”

 

“June. Before someone can release pain they have to admit it’s there. Acknowledge it. Feel it. It’s ok for him to feel bad right now. This is normal. Alcohol keeps people frozen in their trauma. Keeps them from feeling and acknowledging their pain. He doesn’t need to be fixed. He needs to be allowed to feel what he’s feeling. Talk about what happened. As he heals he’ll need the alcohol less and less.”

 

The next day I text him to meet us at the park.

 

He’s waiting on the park bench when I arrive with the girls. I let Holly run up to surprise him.

 

“Dada!! Dada!!”

 

He smiles. The smile he only has for her. “Hey baby girl. You’re so big!” He hoists her up to sit on his shoulders. I watch them play. It feels dreamlike again. This time I know it won’t last. I try to savor it. Soak it up. Notice all the details I can. He pushes her on the swing. Helps her climb the kiddie rock wall. Hannah sits on another bench, talking with other kids her age. Holly settles in the sandbox digging contentedly. Nick comes over and sits next to me.

 

“She says I have PTSD and anxiety. Says it’s common in former guardians. I’m on medicine. I think it’s helping. I just get these moments where...”

 

“It’s gonna get better.”

 

He nods. “Holly is the only thing that doesn’t remind me of anything bad.” He looks at me. Swallows hard. Stares at the ground.

 

I gently ask...“What do I remind you of?”

 

“Gilead. Handmaids. Guardians. Death. Murder. Execution. Rape. Torture.”

 

“Well that’s quite a word cloud.”

 

“Yeah and that’s the Disney version.”

 

I laugh.” Cliffs notes.” He nods.

 

“June. I fucking helped build that place. I knew what it was and I didn’t fight it. I don’t know how I lived with that.”

 

“It was a nightmare. But you survived. Best you knew how.”

 

“I’m so sorry June. For everything.”

 

It suddenly clicks in my brain. I’ve been withholding what he needs. What he’s asking for. Acknowledgement.

 

“Hey, look at me.” I take his hands, find his eyes. “You did fucked up things.  In the Sons of Jacob. You hurt a lot of people. Directly and indirectly. ” He nods. Like he’s really seeing me for the first time in weeks.

 

“I haven’t told anyone the really bad part. Makes me sick just thinking about it.”

  
  
“Hey, you can tell me anything. You can trust me. You know that.”

 

“Can you get a babysitter and go out? I don’t want to talk about it here.”

 

“Yeah. Lets go.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick finally discusses his trauma.  
> The moment he realized he was part of the problem. 
> 
> Note: references torture, does NOT describe anything graphically.

We drop the kids at the babysitter’s and go back to the bar. The one with the mechanical bull and country music. Air heavy with smoke.

 

Nick does two shots. Sits with his eyes closed. Heels of his palms on his temples like it’s physically painful.

 

“I had to kill people.”

 

“You hadn’t killed anyone before?”

 

“Not directly. The handmaid before you. Eden. I didn’t help them and they died. But no. I’d never done it myself. It’s different.”

 

He sighs. “You remember the day I left? I called Bryan Sullivan. You remember Bryan.”

 

“Yea. Big guy, red beard. On the security council at the American Embassy. Former Gilead Military and Mayday like you.”

 

He nods. “Yeah. Close friend. Same Gilead story as me. We got the kids out. Went deeper. I was in uniform. Bryan was in plain clothes. We were separated. When the vans came to take the prisoners back to Gilead.

 

Bryan was loaded up with the prisoners. There were too many guards. Would have been suicide to fight back. The rest of our team fell back into the woods.

 

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t leave him. I stayed with the guards. Went back to headquarters. I offered to help them process new arrivals. I looked for Bryan. He wasn’t in the holding cells. I looked for hours.”

 

Nick stops. Sits very still. Eyes closed. I give it space. This is the trauma. Whatever happened was in that place.

 

“He was downstairs.”

 

After about a minute of stillness and silence. I put my hand on his. I ask quietly. “What’s downstairs Nick?”

 

He looks up at me. Like he’d forgotten I was there.

 

“It’s where they hurt people.”

 

I nod.  I can see he’s censoring details. I admit I’m glad.

 

“Once you’re in one of those rooms you never come out. It always ends the same.”

 

He looks down. Face blank. Catatonic. Like the night Eden died.

 

I signal the bartender for refills and water. Slide mine to him too. He knocks them back. Sits for another minute.

 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. We can do it another time.”

 

“I need to get it out.”

 

“Ok.”

 

He nods. Steeling himself. His eyes glaze over, voice emotionless.

 

“I found his room. I don’t know what they were doing to him but it sounded horrible.”

 

He pauses.

 

“I just kept thinking it was my fault. He was there because of me.”

 

I give it space.

 

“I was certain he’d told them everything. But I had to try to find him. Had to try to help. I owed him that. It should have been me. I was ready. To pay for everything I’d done.

 

They do 3 hour shifts. Told them I’d take the next shift. Got report. Suspected he was Mayday. Thought he acted alone. He hadn’t said a word about the rest of us.”

 

Nick whispers. “He was in bad shape. I told him I’d get him out. Find a way. He knew there was no way out. Begged me. To kill him. So I did. Cut his wrist. Bled him out.”

 

He clenches everything shut. Eyes. Jaw. Shoulders.  

 

“3 hour shifts. They brought a new one. Old lady. Knew there was no way out. Begged for a quick death. Gave me a lot of intel for Mayday. Where their safe houses were. Names of contacts. Passwords. The rooms don’t have windows. But you can hear everything. She screamed. To make it sound like I was hurting her. To protect me. It’s all I can fucking hear now. Killed her too. I had to process more people. Kill them. Make it look like I’d hurt them.

 

“After they were dead?”

 

He glares at me. “Yeah after.”  

 

“Jesus. That’s horrible.”

 

“The shift ended. Gave report. None of it true. Spent the rest of the day letting prisoners out of the holding cells upstairs. Started with kids, then women. When I came for them they’d scream, cry, beg. I’d get them outside, walk them around the block, tell them how to get to the Mayday safe house. Went there myself after. Didn’t sleep for a few days. Wanted to die. Really thought about killing myself.”

 

I furrow my brow. Trying to minimize my reaction. He reads my face.

 

“Somehow- before- I convinced myself that it was just an act. But it wasn’t. I was a high ranking officer of the Gilead military. Unrestricted access. Respect. That I’d earned. I finally saw that. And now I can’t un-see it.” He swallows. “I don’t know why you can’t see it. How you can even look at me. I feel like a fucking monster.”

 

“Why didn’t you? Kill yourself?”

 

“I kept thinking about you and Holly. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore than I already had.

 

It’s all I hear now. The begging. The screams. I kept telling myself I didn’t hurt anyone. But I did. Working for Pryce and Waterford and the Eyes all those years. All that suffering, all that blood is on my hands.”

 

I want so badly to help him re-write the narrative. Help him see it the way I see it. But I remember what my therapist said. That’s not the first step. We have to start by allowing and acknowledging our pain.

 

I keep my mouth shut. I just nod and leave the silence. He sits quietly. Nodding.

 

I think he got it all out.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June handles business.  
> Tough love.

He’s exhausted. I walk him back to the hotel. He lays down on the bed and is asleep by the time I get out of the bathroom. I let myself out. But just before the door clicks shut something rebellious rises in me. I wedge my foot in the door, holding it open. This shit ends today. 

 

I let myself back in. I quickly locate and dump out all of the booze. There was a fucking lot of it.

 

I gather the dirty clothes into a plastic bag. Crack the window to get fresh air in. Empty the ashtray, get bottles of water and sprite and a pack of peanut butter crackers from the vending machine. 

 

Operation rehabilitate Nick starts now. I text Moira and make childcare arrangements for the week. Moira says she wants to help. 

 

I check local AA meetings on my phone. Turns out there is one at the center at 8 am just for male Gilead survivors. That group has meetings every four hours all day every day. Guess he’s not the only one.

 

There aren’t any books here. I flip on the TV and treat myself to a project runway marathon. 

 

He starts having a nightmare around 7am and sits up drenched in sweat. He wipes his face and winces. “What are you doing here?” “I stayed over. Hope that’s ok.” He looks around- heads to the cabinet over the microwave.

 

“Nick. I dumped it out. All of it. It’s gone. Bathroom and closet too.”

 

“Dumped what out?” He shades his eyes against the daylight filtering in the open window.

 

“You know what I’m talking about.” He shakes his head. Goes and checks under the bathroom counter and in the closet. 

 

“You’re done with this chapter. That’s not how your story ends. You said so yourself. Time to start getting better.”

 

He shoots me a panicked, trapped look. He checks his coat pockets. I point to the empty flask on the counter and hold up his wallet, before putting it back in my pocket. 

 

He sits on the bed, irritated.

 

“Baby. When Josh was bad off. What would you do? What am I going to need?”

 

He glares at me. “Damnit, June- are you fucking serious?” 

 

“Serious as a heart attack. Which is what you’re going to have if you keep poisoning yourself.” 

 

“It’s not that bad. You should have seen Josh.”

 

“The brother that died. Of alcohol poisoning. That’s who we’re discussing?”

 

He rubs his forehead.

 

“Is he a good benchmark for what healthy drinking looks like?”

 

“June. Just go, ok? I’ll figure it out. I don’t feel good.”

 

“You don’t feel good because you’re hungover. In withdrawal. From a cancer causing poison that is chemically identical to gasoline.”

 

“Fuck. Just stop talking!” He shouts. “My fucking head hurts. Jesus. I’d get him Pedialyte. Pepto. Advil and Dramamine. None of it helped. He’d puke it all up.” 

 

He falls silent. Eyes closed. 

 

“I’d just fucking hold him. Tell him it was almost over. That he was doing good. He’d get clean for a week at a time. Then it’d start all over. Never made a difference.” 

 

He’s nodding. Eyes closed. Leg bouncing nervously. “I fucking found him. The day he finally did it. It was actually a relief. I was glad he wasn’t hurting anymore.” 

 

He stares at the floor blankly. Tears falling silently. 

 

I get up and start the shower. Remembering the therapist's words. He needs to feel his feelings. It’s the only way. When the water’s hot- I rub my hand on his back. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been through so much. Let’s get you a shower. You’ll feel better after you get cleaned up.”

 

Thank God he’s getting bathed. He smells like a barnyard. 

 

I text Moira the grocery list. Tell her to meet me at the hotel at 9:30.

 

I march Nick to the center. I find the AA meeting and make him a cup of coffee. We sit together waiting for it to start- him with elbows on his knees, face in his hands.  

 

At 7:59 I say: “Hey everybody. This is Nick Blaine. He’s an alcoholic. His brother died from alcohol poisoning. He’s on day 1. Doesn’t know he has a problem. Would never ask for help. Needs you guys. Thanks!!”

 

I leave to a chorus of voices welcoming him.”Hey Nick!” “Glad you’re here buddy!” “We got you, man.”

 

I wait outside the meeting. He emerges an hour later puffy eyed and pale. I march him back to the hotel. He’s too weak to fight me. 

 

When Moira knocks on the hotel door an hour later he’s retching loudly. There’s nothing down there. It’s just dry heaves and bile. 

 

She peeks around me. “Stomach flu?” “Something like that.” He retches again, gagging and coughing, spitting. She wrinkles her nose. “Damn.” She sees the trash bag full of bottles by the door. “Whiskey flu? Is that why he looked so bad?” “It’s part of it. We’re done with that shit. Effective today.” She smiles. “Let me know if you need anything else. I can watch the girls as long as you need. This is important.”

 

I call out of work and Moira watches the girls through the weekend. Nick throws up a lot. The room smells sour. Stale. I wish the fucking windows opened wider. I feel sick just smelling it. Reminds me of college. 

 

He falls asleep on the bathroom floor. I sit down next to him. Prop his head up on my lap. Wipe his face with a wet rag.

 

He’s so pale... I play with his hair. I love how it naturally curls back like johnny cash used to wear his. 

 

I realize he used to do this with his brother. Nurse him through withdrawal. I can’t imagine having to do it more than once. It would be so painful watching someone hurt themselves over and over. He’d never talked about his brother before. My poor Nick. He watched his brother kill himself slowly. He never gave up on him, never stopped loving him. But it wasn’t enough. He had to see his brother in a casket. I bet Josh looked a lot like this. I’m suddenly chilled- seeing Nick so pale, laying so still. It’ll be him some day. In a casket. He’s asleep but I squeeze his hand. He squeezes back. 

 

Not today.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick gets better. 
> 
> June finally understands what he's been trying to tell her.

I wake up and Nick’s awake. Watching me.

He smiles when I open my eyes. It feels like a dream. Happy. Safe. Like it used to. In his bed above the garage.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You feeling better?”

“I feel like shit.”

“That was a long night.”

He nods. “Thanks. For coming back for me.”

I smile.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Over the next few days he sleeps a lot. We go to two AA meetings a day. He starts sounding more like himself. His eyes get clearer. We talk between naps. All the Gilead talk brings my nightmares back.

 

_I wake up on my cot at the red center._

_Everyone else is sleeping._

_No aunts in sight._

_I get to the wall, in the shadows and make it to the gymnasium door._

_I run down the hallway._

_I dash for the next building._

_I round the corner and see Nick. I run into his arms._

_He takes my wrist._

_Walks me back to the red center._

_Puts me back in my cot._

_Goes to the head of the bed and holds my wrists down._

_I scream and struggle and try to fight him off but he’s too strong._

_I look up and Serena is holding me down._

_Nails digging into my arms._

_Fred walks to the foot of the bed_ _and unzips his pants._

 

I wake up screaming. Nick is holding my arm, looking concerned. I push him off and jump out of bed. Looking at him in horror as the dream recedes and I remember where I am. I instantly feel terrible for pushing him away but the feeling of betrayal and danger remains.

 

He walks closer.

 

I step back “don’t touch me.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I dreamed I was back at the Red Center. I escaped but you were a guard and you took me back to Fred and Serena. You helped them rape me. Thank God it was just a dream.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Nick, what?”

 

He sits on the bed. Waiting for me to hear what I just said. To piece it together.

 

“What is it?”

 

“June. I **was** a guard in Gilead. I helped Fred and Serena rape you. That happened.”

 

He looks up at me. Trying to be brave. Here in the moment when I finally understand what he's been saying since he got back. When I finally see the disgusting truth that has been eating him alive. He offers no defense. Waits for my verdict. Ready to accept the inevitable tragedy that was always one moment away. The end of hope has finally arrived.

 

I feel sick. Panicked. I want to say it’s ok. But it’s not ok. I have to get out of here. I need to be alone. Fuck. I lock myself in the bathroom.

 

I want to ignore it. Numb out somehow. But I know I have to do the opposite. Listen to the tiny voice inside. I clear my mind. We’re here to navigate the wreckage of our trauma so we can move forward. No new repression. It’s ok to feel your feelings.

 

_I'm angry._

_I want him to explain it away._

_Tell me it was just a dream._

_But dreams are messages from our subconscious._

_My soul speaks in pictures._

_It heard Nick._

_It knows he was part of the problem._

_One of my captors._

_I’m terrified of what that means._

_It never felt like that in Gilead._

_But he did drive me back to be interrogated by the Eyes._

_Take me to Jezebel’s with my rapist and wait patiently while I was sexually assaulted._

_Stand by at attention as I was shown off like a pet before foreign ambassadors._

_Now I’m angry again._

_Betrayed. Sad._

_Why didn’t he help me?_

_Kill them all? Hurt them?_

_My mind shows my Issac and Eden._

_Floating lifeless in the pool._

_Because it would have gotten us both killed._

_I see him nodding as I ran with the baby._

_Hiding me in the house where I gave birth to Holly._

_He tried to help me. Best he could._

_Fuck. What a mess._

_The images stop._

_My soul has said it’s peace._

_Now I just feel tired. Spent. Drained._

 

I run the shower to mask my crying. Try to keep it quiet. I crawl back to bed. Facing away from him and stare at the wall.

\--------------------------------------------

 

I wake up the next morning to Moira knocking. She brought bagels.

 

I tap his shoulder. “Hey. Meeting’s in an hour. We should eat.”

 

He doesn’t move. I know he heard me. I kneel on his side of the bed and touch his shoulder. He moves his eyes to mine. “Nick- I love you. I feel sick and angry and hurt and betrayed too. But I still love you. Even after everything.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know yet. Get up. We’ve got work to do. I’m not leaving you in the darkness. I’m getting you out.”

 

\--------------------------------------------

I fall asleep outside the AA meeting. My next dream is a mishmash of remembered words. All Nick’s voice.

 

_I’m sorry. I tried everything to get you out._

_I just came to see if you’re ok_

_I should have just driven away with you_

_I’m trying to keep you alive. You and our baby._

_I’m helping you. I am risking my life to help you._

_It’s nice to meet you June._

_You didn’t have a choice._

_I think about us. The three of us. What we could be._

_I love you._

_It’s ok. It’s over._

_I’m not gonna let anything happen to you._

_You’ve gotta be careful_

_We should just run off somewhere._

_I’m sorry this is happening to you._

 

\--------------------------------------------

That afternoon we lay in bed facing each other. We trade back and forth. He voices the negative thoughts. I re-frame them.

 

“I knew what they did. But I’d blocked it out. It was them, not me somehow. But seeing it up close again- the inner workings of that shit- it brought it all back”

 

“Thank you. For surviving. For coming home to me.”

 

“All I see is darkness.”

 

“You were surrounded by darkness. You lit the way for others. You’ve always been trying to help.”

 

“I couldn’t help Bryan. He’s dead because of me. I fucking killed him.”

 

“You tried to save Bryan. Knowing you were likely going to your own death. You gave him mercy. It would have been days instead of hours. It mattered. It made a difference.”

 

“I couldn’t help Josh.”

 

“But you tried. It did help. You were there with him when he was suffering.”

 

“Everyone I love ends up dead.”

 

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

 

“I don’t understand it. How you can even look at me. What you see when you look at me.”

 

I prop up on my elbow. “Nick- we’ve all done bad things. If you only looked at the bad parts of my story, I’d sound like a monster. A two time adulteress. A weak, frightened woman who allowed herself to be hurt again and again. Who abandoned her daughter. How we piece the fragments together is up to us. That’s what makes our story.”

 

“I hurt so many people.”

 

“You saved so many people. You designed the only successful mass escape plan Mayday has ever had.”

 

Something clicks in my mind. I get my laptop. I sit down next to him on the bed. “Can I show you something babe?” He nods. When you were gone I wrote a report. Stories from the Handmaids who escaped. These are people who’d be dead if you hadn’t helped them. He looks at me, then at the screen. I skip around, finding the ends of the stories. The parts about finding Mayday, finding hope, making it across the border, deciding to live again. The happy endings.

 

He falls asleep halfway through. He doesn’t have any nightmares that night.

 

I wake up. He’s watching me.

 

“Hey.”

“You’re pretty when you sleep.”

“Screw you. I’m pretty all the time.”

He smiles.

I touch the corners of his mouth, where they turn up.

You should smile more, Nick. You should have deep smile lines by now. All you have is this. I touch his worry wrinkle.

“Ok. I’ll just stay here. Looking at you makes it easy.”

 

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Nick and I are walking to the Center for his evening meeting. Day 4 of recovery.

 

“June. I’m doing better. We can keep the morning meeting. It’s so late- is this really necessary?”

 

“Trust me.”

 

I push the door open to the meeting room. It isn’t set for an AA meeting. There’s no coffee. No ring of chairs.

 

But the room is full. Of women. Children. The people he saved. Whose stories I’d collected.

 

I don’t say anything. They know why he’s here. Hannah’s finally going to get her chance to say thank you. They all will.

 

I squeeze his hand. Lean to his ear. “ **THIS** . **This is what I see when I look at you.** ”

 

I kiss his cheek and step out to wait in the hall.

 

Leaving them their moment.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Happy Ending

He doesn’t go back to work at the center. He gets a job at a hardware store. Working with his hands. Helping people fix things.

 

He gets into meditation. He gets involved in AA and a guardian support group. He also gets really into yoga. Every group he joins he rises quickly to a leadership position. It’s all fine until he gets offered a job at the Yoga studio.

 

“They asked me to train to be a Yoga teacher. It takes a year to get certified, then I could start teaching classes.”

 

All I can think of is a room full of women in scanty clothing touching and being touched by my boyfriend. I know it’s petty and selfish but I can’t stand it. An epic fight ensues.

 

“You’re fucking jealous?”

 

“Well look at you! They’re gonna be all over you!”

 

“June. What do you think I’m gonna do? Assault a student?”

 

I try really hard not to laugh. To keep my war paint on.

 

“Yeah. Maybe. Help with her downward dog after class. Do a little shavassana together”

 

“Where? In the locker room?”

 

“Maybe. Or bring her back here…”

 

“You’re fucking ridiculous.”

 

I raise my eyebrows. “Am I? Are you oblivious to how hot you are? I mean look at you…” I run my hands over his pecs, across his shoulders and down his biceps. I can feel his breathing quicken. “You’re gorgeous, Nick.”

 

He rolls his eyes. “The only person I’m going to fuck is you. Period.”

 

That hurt. I know he didn’t mean it to. But we haven’t made love since he’s been back. It’s been months. I’d suppressed my need for him. But now I remember and I’d rather light myself on fire than go another second without it. I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of space. That’s not how we’ve ever done things.

 

I look up. Study his face. I can fucking see that he wants it too. But he’s waiting for me. Like the first time. He needs me to start.

 

“I want to be the only one, Nick.”

 

“You are.”

 

“Forever.”

 

He nods.

 

“Promise me.”

 

“I promise.”

 

“Don’t cheat on me.”

 

“Never.”

 

I unbutton and unzip his pants, holding his gaze. He keeps his eyes on mine. I slip my hand under his boxers. Surround him with my hand and start stroking him.

 

He steps in closer. We linger there. Savoring the electricity between us. Letting the rush build. His body responds to me.

 

He whispers “Trust me.” Searching my eyes. And I remember that I am everything to him. He’s always been willing to die for me.

 

I nod. “I do.”

 

His face changes. Some barrier drops away. We connect. Mouths and hands hungry, desperate to make up for lost time. We make love there against the wall. We never make it to the bed. Never even get our shirts off. 

 

\-------------------------------------

 

The next day I hear Holly squealing and giggling from the bedroom, alternating with his deep voice. The door finally opens and she toddles over to me, smiling widely, hands behind her back. Nick leans in the doorway watching with a grin.

 

“What’s going on? Did you make something?”

 

She holds out a tiny box, wrapped in white paper.

 

“Aww sweetie what’s this for?”

 

“Mom mom, you marry dada?”

 

Everything gets quiet. I rip the wrapping paper off. My heart stops. It’s a blue velvet box. Inside is a ring. White gold with a single diamond. I start crying. I never thought we’d get a happy ending. We live on borrowed time. We were destined for tragedy. One more stolen moment with him was all I’d ever hoped for. And it’s been enough.

 

I sob helplessly on the floor. Barely able to breathe. Nick’s amusement turns to concern. I feel his hands on my arms. I look up into his eyes. I’ve never seen him so scared. Wide open and vulnerable. Like he’s watching his world end. Like he knew this would happen. The inevitable rejection. For all his sins and shortcomings.

 

My inability to speak and reassure him intensifies my panic. Luckily I choke on a wad of snot- which makes me snort and laugh. I hug him. His muscles are tense. He’s barely breathing.

 

Jesus June get your shit together. He thinks you’re saying no.

 

I take a few deep breaths. Ground myself. Lean to his ear. Squeak out a whispered: “yes.”

 

He pulls back, both hands on my face - frantically searching my eyes for confirmation. Like he needs it to be yes even if it isn’t. I’m a blotchy snotty sobbing mess but I nod vigorously. His lip trembles. A single tear spills over from the well in his eyes. He kisses me. Eyes closed. He sucks in a deep breath and kisses my lips, my eyelids, kisses the wetness off my cheeks before returning to my mouth. I can taste the salt of our tears on his mouth.

 

Holly wraps her little arms around us too.

 

“Mom mom say yes! Mom mom happy! Yayyyy!”

 

Now we’re both snotty laughing messes.

 

It’s the most beautiful moment of my life.


	15. EPILOGUE

We get married in Hawaii and keep the girls with us for a family honeymoon.

 

I still see the far away look sometimes. Like today. 

 

I woke up alone. Went out to find him sitting on the beach. Staring into the darkness. That look on his face. Listening to the demons in his mind reciting his failures and shortcomings. 

 

But now I know where he is. What he’s seeing. What he needs to hear. And I get him back quicker each time. I sit next to him and put my hand on his. He blinks and looks at me. Squeezes my hand. 

 

We stay and watch the sunrise over the ocean. Night is always darkest just before the dawn.

 

“It’s fucking beautiful.” I mutter. 

“Yeah you are.” He says

I glance over. He’s settled back, elbows on the sand. Watching me. I roll my eyes. “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare at people?”

“June I want to spend the rest of my life looking at you. Get used to it.” 

“Well this is really spectacular.”

“So are you.”

 

Holly toddles up behind us and plops down between us.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Elephant in hand. 

 

“Where you go, dada?”

 

“I was out here thinking. Your mom found me.”

 

“You no go out in the dark, dada. You stay here. With me.”

 

“I’m trying baby. That’s what your mom said too.” He looks at me. Smiles. Tickles Holly until she’s squealing. It’s a beautiful sound.

 

We’re still on borrowed time. Everyone we love will die. These things are true. 

 

I don’t know if there is an afterlife. I think maybe it’s all here. Heaven and hell. In this world. Experiences you have based on your actions and thoughts.

 

I know one thing. We’ve been to hell. It was war. Separation. Addiction. Grief. But we fucking survived. We could have stayed there. But we fought our way out. 

 

And this? What I have here? This is heaven. 

 

This one day will be my happy ending. 

 

It’s more than enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting and overlooking typos.   
> <3


End file.
